Thursday, September 9, 2010

There are times, perhaps when you are folding a tiny, orange tee shirt or he turns just so and jumps, his bare feet hitting the wooden floor with a plonk, when you think "Holy shit, I have a child."

Along the way, you think, "How will I ever teach this child to speak, learn his colors, count, do his ABC's, keep him fed so he will grow?"

Fortunately, a lot of it seems to be instinctual. When you are talking to your child, you point out different things. You name and describe. You are teaching as you are guiding him through his day, exposing different layers of his world through the senses, using language to point the way. And he listens. He soaks it in and repeats it back to you, noticing more than you told him, remembering more than you thought he would.

And suddenly, he is asking "Why?" when you tell him that he has to wait to watch videos of garbage trucks on You Tube, and you realize that you are doing a pretty good job.

And that you are doomed.

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